Chapter 79 You Don't Want To Take A Swing?

• Alistair was still holed up in his office, staring at his phone like it might suddenly spring to life and offer answers. It didn’t. It just sat there, mute and unhelpful, for the third hour in a row. Another call. Another redirect to voicemail. Rosie still wasn’t picking up.
• He tapped out one last message—short, a little unsteady, not exactly eloquent. Just... honest, maybe too much so. Then, without thinking, he let the phone drop onto the desk. It hit harder than expected, the clatter loud in the quiet, like the room hadn’t been waiting for anything until now.
• He leaned back, slowly, and dragged both hands down his face. His palms caught on the roughness of his stubble—familiar, faintly irritating. Not painful, just there, like a reminder that another day had passed, whether he’d done anything with it or not.